


Magic-Man

by CaseyStar



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pianist Merlin, Scarring, Self Confidence Issues, Self Esteem Issues, Self-Acceptance, Virgin Merlin, blind Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was a child, Merlin was in an accident that stole his sight, leaving  him scarred in more ways than one.  He grows up hiding behind his grandmother's piano, his anger and sadness renting when he can't verbalisehow he feels.  Twenty years, several successful albums and two sell-out world tours later, he meets his new, somewhat obnoxious, neighbour.</p><p>Little had Merlin known how Arthur would blow his little world wide open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic-Man

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge Seven was 'senses'. So I chose to rob Merlin of one of his. THis is the slightly extended version.
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

After the accident, his mother had moved them in with her mother, who had sat Merlin at her piano, guiding small hands to the keys, smooth and cool but quickly warming beneath his touch as he played, soon outstripping his grandmother’s abilities, the women had scrimped and saved to get him professional tuition and at a time when the young boy would barely speak, his anger and grief rent the air as notes, as little songs he composed himself, masking the sounds of his mother’s sobs as her heart tore for her beloved child. 

Merlin knew his scars were ugly; he’d heard classmates at Julliard whispering, his hearing was truly excellent and he made sure to never leave off his cumbersome dark glasses, the lenses covering the majority of the scarring from view, so sick was he of the startled gasps of horror, the hurtful giggles of groups of students as he passed. The scars felt smooth, too hard, ridged like a mountain range across his upper cheeks and lower forehead; he was sure that the only beauty he had to offer was his music, but as he aged, the less the companionship of his piano eased his loneliness.  
*  
Hammering woke Merlin, groggy and annoyed as he flailed for his clock. Heading onto his patio, the sun warm on his skin, he followed the din, calling out to whoever it was. 

“Bit early, mate.”

The hammering stopped. “I wake you?” 

Merlin frowned at the laugh.

“Ah, you’re hung-over?” 

“What?”

“The sunglasses?” The gate between their gardens squeaked, the stranger stepping to Merlin who retreated, Kil’s comforting body against his legs.

_‘Oh.’_

“Blind.” Merlin stated it like the inescapable fact it was, virtually hearing the guy crumple.

“Shit! Sorry! I’m Arthur Pendragon: neighbour and, uh, prat.”

“Merlin and that’s Kilgarrah, my eyes.” Merlin held out his hand, sure Arthur was no doubt doing the same, Arthur’s shake firm, nodding when Arthur asked if he could pet Kil, the dog panting happily under the attention, collar jingling as he squirmed.

“As in Merlin Emrys? Magic-Man?” Arthur stood, blocking the warmth of the sun as he turned his attention back to Merlin, Kil whining at the loss.

“Umm, yes? Is that a good thing to be?”

 _“’Druids Lament’_ ’s incredible,” Arthur enthused. “The passion and longing bleeding into every piece, like there’s a missing piece that’s strived for, desperate to be re-found.”

“Oh, thanks.”  
**  
Arthur’s renovating all summer, friends from his rugby team helping out, who adopt Merlin as their own, with much blushing from the pianist as the large men gently roughhoused with him, trying to coax him out with them to the local pub after a day’s work, cheering loudly on the rare occasions that he does. When they worked on the house, Merlin brought them occasional sandwiches during practices which, after initial hesitation, Arthur gave feedback on, nervous at first, but later throwing himself into it, gesticulating wildly, with his hammer until one of the others would take it away; one trip taking Gwaine to A&E had been enough.

They were an odd pair- Arthur outgoing and boisterous, Merlin introverted and happiest behind his piano but it worked and over the weeks they spent more and more time together, piano and tools forgotten.

In turn, Merlin took him to Camelot Hall, worlds away from rowdy stadiums so that Arthur could better understand Merlin’s world.

“Wanna play?”

Merlin heard Arthur’s fingers skitter to a halt where Arthur had been stroking the Model D’s deep curve.

“What if I damag-”

“You can’t hurt her.” Merlin coaxed until Arthur caved, Merlin feeling his excitement through his trembling frame.

Arthur’s playing was disjointed but clearly _‘Camlann_ ’, Merlin’s greatest hit. It’s beautiful beneath Arthur’s hands, heat pooling in Merlin’s gut as he pressed closer to Arthur, relief rushing hot as Arthur hummed, snaking one foot between Merlin’s.

“How’s it end?” Arthur asked as the last note floated away.

In a decade, nobody had ever noticed it was unfinished before.

“Don’t know yet.” Merlin startled when Arthur took his hand, thumb rubbing Merlin’s palm, hold tight.

Eyes screwed shut against rejection, Merlin cupped Arthur’s cheek, stubble rough, skin warm.

“Can I-” 

Arthur’s mouth’s tender on his.

*  
Merlin smeared cream over Arthur’s face, getting pie-filling in his hair for his trouble, war erupting as they fell, wrestling on the tiles and remains of their dessert.

All mirth drained from Merlin when his glasses were knocked off, scrabbling for them frantically, face averted, hunching over in a way that Arthur hadn’t seen him do for weeks, in a way that makes his heart ache. He wishes he could track down every person that ever caused Merlin to feel that he should hide himself away. Arthur’s ashamed, because he knows that in school, he probably did much the same to other’s in his own class, and seeing Merlin like this, ashamed of himself, of scars he cannot help, the rush of self-loathing burning through Arthur’s veins steals his breath.

But he's changed, he know's he has, in part because of the beautiful man before him, the beautiful man that he adores, and that won't even let him look at him. If in any way he can give to Merlin, what Merlin had given him...

“You don’t need them,” Arthur said softly. “Not with me.” But he reached out for them anyway, pressing them into Merlin’s shaking hands; it needed to be Merlin’s choice, it was, after all, his face, and the choice to reveal it, or not had to be his own. 

“I know I’m ugly.” The words are spat out, harsh and flat, and from the way he says it, Arthur is sure it’s not the first time Merlin’s spoken those words, and that he has believed them for more years than Arthur can comprehend.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Merlin shoved the glasses on so hard it must have hurt.

“ _Don’t lie.”_

“Listen to my voice - I’m not lying.” Arthur rested a gentle hand on Merlin’s bowed shoulders, scooting a smidgen closer when Merlin didn’t move away.

“Your cheekbones could cut glass, your smile’s incredible, when you don’t shave…fuck- I just want to press you onto every available surface-”

Arthur’s lips were tart-sweet as Merlin rolled them, Arthur’s hand cupping the swell of Merlin’s cock.

“That what you like?” Arthur asked, tonguing Merlin’s ear as his boyfriend sucked the bolt of his jaw, slick hands grappling for purchase on Arthur’s biceps, learning the feel of them, the curve as the muscle flexed, feeling the desperation as Arthur held him close, feeling the truth of Arthur’s words as Arthur gifted him a pleasure the likes of which he’d never known with his own hand. 

“I - I dunno…” Merlin groaned, thrusting artlessly, face aflame.

“You’ve never?” To Merlin’s intense relief, Arthur didn’t withdraw, hands faltering only a moment before Arthur rolled atop him a little more, his weight pressing Merlin into the tiles leading, inextricably, for the pianist to feel like he was floating, every inch of his skin tingling, crying out for Arthur’s touch.

“Do you want to? With me?”

“Yes. _Yes_.”

Arthur couldn’t get Merlin’s pants down fast enough, mouth smudging _lust-truth-want_ on Merlin’s skin, working his tongue around Merlin’s cock, drinking in Merlin’s guileless moans, flicking the slit, hints of teeth as he sucked, riding Merlin’s bucking hips, as nimble hands ran restlessly over his back.

“I’m – Arthu-”

It's too soon, it’s way too soon, Merlin mortified at coming so fast, but Arthur seemed pleased, lapping at Merlin’s cock and balls, before swarming up his body, cock to softening cock, licking into Merlin’s mouth with intent, sharing Merlin’s taste.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Arthur gasped, Merlin’s hands grasping sweat-slick skin to tug him closer, splaying his legs wider to wrap around Arthur’s hips, Arthur’s cock riding along Merlin’s hipbone, thrusting fast and furious.

Merlin’s dizzy on the scent of Arthur and the salt-tang of sex, on the hot skin against his, cool tiles catching his back as Arthur thrust, on his own taste thick on his lips, Arthur gasping in his ear; he _needs_ to hear Arthur come.

_  
“Merlin.”_

Merlin grinned victoriously as Arthur spilt between them, pressing kiss after kiss into Arthur’s sweaty hair, gentle hands smoothing over cooling skin as Arthur jerked, grinding into Merlin even as it became too much. Forcing questing fingers between them, curious, Merlin trailed them in the come coating their stomachs, raising his fingers to his lips for a taste, Arthur’s dazed eyes opening in time to see Merlin’s pink tongue snake out to lap it up with every sign of enjoyment, utterly innocent of how deeply sexual his actions were.

_“Fuck-”_

Their kisses sloppy, Arthur rolled them to their sides, thigh still between Merlin’s, their hands exploring, and between one kiss and the next, Merlin carelessly tossed his glasses aside, intrinsically altered; no longer the scarred boy, or the man hiding behind a piano. Here, with Arthur, like this, he’s just _Merlin_. 

*  
“I’ve something for you,” Merlin whispered one autumn morning, fat raindrops smacking into the skylight above their bed.

“Gotta ge’up?” Arthur muttered, dragging Merlin back into his hold, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets

“You’re such a lazy daisy.” Merlin dragged a protesting Arthur from his nest and through the cool house, unerringly headed to the music room, hand warm around Arthur’s until he reached his piano, positioning them on the bench, pressed close, side by side in the silence.

The familiar strains of ‘Camlaan’ floated into the air, Arthur lost, as ever, in visions of castles and friendship, war and love, heartbreak as the end neared, the gut wrenching loneliness rolling into the air as tears spilled down Arthur’s cheeks-

But Merlin played on, the song transformed, joy filling every dancing note as the tempo picked up, the melody sweet and blissful as it teased and weaved throughout the tune and Arthur understood what Merlin had no words for; for all the mystery surrounding Merlin, here, with his music, it was as though every emotion, raw and beautiful, were writ miles high.

“I love you too, Merlin.”


End file.
